Of Bordom, Booze and Body Language
by PHS Orchid
Summary: Grissom isn’t a party animal. What happens when a round of drinks with a few of his colleagues has an unexpected surprise for him? Written as a response to the Drunk Cop Challenge.


**Of boredom, booze and body language**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything from CSI. Albert Tucker is mine, though.

**Summary: **Grissom isn't a party animal. What happens when a round of drinks with a few of his colleagues has an unexpected surprise for him? Written as a response to the _**Drunk Cop Challenge**_.

**Rated: **T

**Enjoy!**

For about half an hour, he'd been sitting at a small table, looking at the Scotch in his hand and the three guys sitting by his side. He still didn't know why he was there. Gil Grissom doesn't do after-the job-drinks-with-colleagues-to-socialize. Nick, Warrick and Greg were talking about the football match of last week – something he wasn't interested in. He couldn't really relate to anything they talked about because of either a lack of interest, or a significant age difference (What is so amazing about a dog named Snoop?).

Taking another sip of his drink, he started to look around the club. It looked nice, with it's dark interior and jazz-like music. It wasn't one of those new-age, popular dance clubs with music that gives you headaches and drinks with names that could just as well have a tag that says 'x-rated'. No, he did feel comfortable in here, it was just.. the fact that he liked being alone a lot more.

_Let's check out the people around this joint._

His eyes searched the bar first. There were a young couple, a brunette and a somewhat older guy seated there. The young couple looked fairly happy, they were laughing, giggling and drinking cheap champagne with their arms entwined in the wedding-like way. The brunette seemed to be texting and the older man kept rolling his empty whiskey glass over the bar and sighing. Not very interesting.

Next.. the tables. There must be about thirty tables, including the one they were sitting at. Since it wasn't a very busy night, only eight of the tables were taken, plus a few in the alcoves (the tables for people who wanted a bit more privacy with their drink, so to say). The tables were each taken by a couple. Grissom's eyes loomed over the people out of curiosity and just when he was done 'examining' the guests, he caught something in his peripheral vision that knocked the breath from him.

Sara walked in.

For a second, Grissom felt paralyzed. Partially because Sara was looking absolutely stunning, wearing a dark brown suit made from what seemed to be silk, with a red v-neck under it (red really suited her complex and the brown matched her hair), and partially.. because a man was walking close behind her.

_Shit! She's got a date._

Now, he could've expected that, he knew. Sara was an extraordinary woman (he knew that all to well) and beautiful to boot. Half the lab would kill to go out with her (including me, Grissom thought), not to think of what they would do to share her bed. Wow, that guy is one lucky bastard..

Let's see what her taste in men is like, he thought. The guy was tall, dark and broad shouldered. Because the club was dark and shadowy, he couldn't really see specific details, but the man seemed to be attractive.

_Double shit._

Grissom sighed and blinked. Nick, Greg and Warrick were still gabbing away. The topic now seemed to be the brunette at the bar, and whether she was or wasn't Greg's type. Thank goodness, they haven't seen Sara, he thought. Grissom tried to concentrate on his drink and, feeling the strange urge to get very, very drunk, he emptied the glass in one long sip.

'Whoa, boss! Take it easy.' Warrick was eying him curiously and somewhat worried at the same time.

'Let's order some more, shall we? I'll take care of the check.' Nick arched a brow, as did Warrick. Greg didn't bother thinking through the fact Grissom wasn't a drinker, he just started bouncing up-and-down his chair like a leapfrog on amphetamines.

'Oh yeah, the boss's buying! Let's have some tequila!' he squealed.

'Eh, Greg.. this is Grissom we're dealing with.' Nick said, but Grissom shook his head and said:

'No, tequila sounds fine. Where's the waitress?' Nick's jaw dropped at that last statement.

'Wha'd ya suppose has gotten into him all of a sudden?' Warrick whispered into his ear, but Nick simply lifted his shoulders and watched Grissom order a bottle of tequila, that arrived fairly quickly. Immediately, Grissom filled his glass and threw it back. Now, even Greg was astounded.

'Didn't know you party, Griss.' He said, a little taken aback.

'You only live once!' Grissom stated, the booze already loosing him up.

It went on like that for half an hour – Grissom boozing up, and looking at Sara every other minute. His three co-workers got really worried over his condition, but they didn't really know what to do about it, since they had no idea why he was acting this way.

'What the hell is wrong with him?' Warrick asked no one in particular. Nick answered.

'I don't know. But I do know that--'

He stopped talking in the middle of what he was saying when he saw Sara walking onto the small dance floor in the with her mystery date. Warrick wondered what had stunned Nick and followed his gaze.

'Oh..' The man put his hand on Sara's back and started their dance by swirling her around once. They were dancing in a very close way, and all three CSI's were watching their boss empty up another shot of tequila, before looking over at Sara again. Something in his eyes changed, because Greg suddenly started to panic a bit.

'Take it easy, Griss. Maybe they're just friends, ya know.' Nick nudged Greg that he ought to be silent, but when Grissom gave a low growl and suddenly stood up, he also got scared. You never know what got happen with a drunk Grissom.. Without they knew what had happened, Grissom had already left the table, and walked over to where Sara was dancing. All of the men back at the table were pretty sure Griss was going to get violent with his rival (they knew he would never, but alcohol can do strange things to you, that plus the look he'd had in his eyes..) but instead, he simply tapped him on the shoulder.

'Yes?' the man asked. The smile that had graced Sara's face melted away the second she saw Grissom standing behind her and her dance partner.

They just stood there for a minute. Grissom was looking at Sara, his blue eyes burning holes in her own.

'Aren't you going to introduce me?' he asked, not in his usual strong voice, but that was the alcohol. Sara seemed to be seriously agitated and above all embarrassed, but she managed to sound cheerful.

'Griss, this is Albert Tucker. A good friend of mine. Al, this is Gil Grissom. My boss.'

'Howdie-doodie-do?' Grissom asked, while shaking the man's hand. Albert pulled away quickly, as if Grissom's hand had been poisonous.

'A pleasure.' He got hold of Sara's hand again, turned around and wanted to continue their dance, but Grissom cleared his throat, indicating that he wasn't quite finished. Albert turned to face him again, while rolling his eyes and asked, clearly irritated now:

'Was there anything else, sir?'

'Yes,' Grissom said with a smile, 'You mind if I tuck in?' Sara's eyes went wide as her jaw dropped. Albert arched a brow.

'Well, actually-' He was cut of mid-sentence when Grissom got hold of Sara's left wrist and pulled her away from a flabbergasted Albert. He whisked her away, and she waited until they were out of hearing reach of Albert, before she finally spoke.

'What the HELL do you think you're doing?!'

'I could be asking you the same question.' He retorted. Again, her eyes grew wide.

'Excuse me?! Since when do I have to make a damn report about all of my off-duty activities to you, Grissom?' He didn't answer that and just kept moving to the beat with Sara in his arms, until she pushed him away.

'Listen, Grissom. I'm not in the mood for this. I come here on my night off, just to have a good time, and then you turn up, treat my date like garbage and for what? I don't know what your game is, Grissom, but I've had it. I've totally had-'

For the second time that night, Grissom shut someone up mid-sentence. But this time, he did it by kissing the woman he was holding in his arms. They say, booze takes away your ability to be rational, well, it sure did for Gil Grissom. He kissed her gently at first, but when he noticed she wasn't pulling or pushing away, he deepened the kiss. His right hand went from her hips down to her butt, and with his left hand he caressed her face and neck. He kissed her like he'd never kissed a woman before and everyone could see it. He just didn't care.

Still standing around the small table, Greg, Warrick and Nick were watching the entire thing, their mouths agape, their eyes wide with disbelief.

'What the..' Nick said. Warrick could only chuckle and shake his head, and Greg made the most stable statement of the three of them:

'Man, we need to get the boss-man boozed up more often!'

They all had to laugh at that.


End file.
